


Chrome

by pennydreadful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Inanimate Object Porn, M/M, Multi, Object Insertion, Other, Pegging, Season/Series 05, Threesome - F/M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydreadful/pseuds/pennydreadful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean cheats Crowley at poker and his misdeed will not go unpunished. When Crowley has to go and get Baby involved, Dean is outraged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chrome

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys. I've stopped making excuses for the insane smut I write.
> 
> Set during season 5. Warning: incest! Though that's hardly the worst of it.
> 
> **Since I get these questions a lot: I fully give my permission for anyone to translate any of my works into any language, make podfics/audiobooks out of them, or post them elsewhere (as long as you give me proper credit). Go for it, you don't have to ask! And thank you very much!**

Cheating a demon at poker wasn't the sanest thing a man could do, but no one had ever accused Sam's brother of being sane. The risk was almost worth the result, to see the look on Crowley's face when he realized he'd been duped, set to the soundtrack of Dean's uproarious, triumphant laughter.

But then Crowley snarled, "You're going to rue this day, Dean Winchester," and disappeared, leaving behind five lumps of gold bullion--who the fuck played poker with gold bullion?--and a chill ran down Sam's spine.

"Oh come on, Sammy," Dean said as they kicked back with beers in front of the TV later. "What's he gonna do, huh? All I did was cheat at cards. He's the soul-sucking demon who makes deals with hapless bastards all day. What I did is hardly as bad the shit he does every minute of his existence. He'll forget about it."

Sam shook his head. "He said you'd rue this day, Dean."

"Yeah, and by the way, who says shit like that?" Dean made a face and lifted his beer bottle to his mouth. " _Rue the day_. What the hell does that even mean?"

The next morning, Sam awoke on the couch to the sound of Dean shouting and the smell of bacon.

"Where is she?" Dean stood in the middle of the room, looking panicked. " _Where is she_ _!_ "

Bobby came in from the kitchen wearing his bathrobe and trucker hat, holding a coffee cup. He squinted at Dean. "Where's _who_ _?_ "

"Baby! She's gone." Dean sounded like he might faint. "Someone took her. She was parked out front and now she's _gone_ _!_ "

Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"The Impala?" Bobby asked. "But how did--"

"We gotta put out an APB!" Dean declared.

"Yeah," Bobby said, "and we could do that if we were police officers, I suppose. Are you sure you parked her where you think you did?"

"Of course I did. She's not out there Bobby! Someone stole her!"

"That doesn't make a whole lotta sense. If anyone came creeping onto the property, it's booby-trapped as hell, they wouldn't get far. And besides, if someone was gonna steal something, there's tons of scrap out there that's a hell of a lot more valuable than your car."

Dean looked offended.

"Dean," Sam said. "Crowley…"

Dean's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "That son of a bitch! He stole Baby. What the hell's a demon gonna do with a car, huh?"

Sam shrugged. "I told you not to take him lightly."

Sam and Bobby followed Dean outside. The day was pleasant, warm and sunny; one of those nice spring days that kept coming despite the world literally going to Hell, and Sam didn't get it, how the earth kept turning as if nothing were wrong.

"She was right here," Dean said. "Sitting right here in the driveway and--"

"Boy, you're an idjit," Bobby said.

Dean looked at him, outrage still twisting his features. "What?"

"You didn't notice that Mustang sitting where your car was before?" Bobby pointed. A dark blue Mustang GT with black racing stripes sat in the driveway.

Dean turned and looked at the car. "Are you saying…" He looked back at Bobby. "Crowley swapped my Baby for _that_ _?_ "

Bobby shrugged. "I know it wasn't there last night. And it sure ain't one of my cars."

Dean turned back around and approached the Mustang with caution. Sam thought he might need back-up and followed him.

"Don't touch it," Sam warned. "It might be cursed."

The two of them circled the car a few times--it didn't look cursed, but then, most cursed things didn't. Sam didn't sense any weird mojo, either.

"Wait," Dean said, standing at the front of the car. "It has the same license plates."

Sam checked the one on the back: same Ohio plate, same number.

"Pop the trunk, Sam!" Dean said, marching toward the back of the car.

Sam did, despite his hesitation. When he opened the trunk he was vaguely surprised to find their arsenal.

"This…" Dean stared into the trunk, face pale. "Oh my God. This is Baby." He slunk along the side of the car, sliding a hand across the paint. "What did he do to you, Baby? He changed you. He…he made you into a _Ford_ _!_ "

Sam saw a folded piece of paper lying on the floor of the trunk and picked it up. He unfolded it. "Hm," he said, squinting at the scrawled handwriting on the paper. "I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but this note is probably a clue."

_Moron,_

_Every day for the next five days, I'm going to turn your jalopy into something different, once for every bullion you cheated me out of. As far as curses go it's not so bad, it'll just be a pain in your arse, I'd wager. But I know it'll make you suffer, because you're an idiot._

_Kisses,_

__  
_C_

Dean snatched the paper from Sam's hands, read the note, and crumpled it up. "Crowley!" he howled at the air.

Sam closed the trunk. "He's right though, as a curse it's not that bad. Just kind of irritating."

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean skulked along the side of the car. "Baby is having a bad enough day. She doesn't need your input." He laid his hands on the roof of the car and whispered, "It's okay honey, you're still beautiful to me. I can see the real you shining underneath."

Sam rolled his eyes.

***

Dean was despondent for the rest of the morning, sprawled on the couch with his arm flung across his eyes like a fraught Victorian heroine. He did bravely get up to eat six pieces of bacon and a stack of pancakes Bobby made for breakfast, but then returned to his post of hubris and suffering.

Around noon, Bobby went to town to stock up on supplies, and Sam brought Dean his midday bottle of whiskey in the hopes of cheering him up.

"She'll come back," Sam said, sitting Indian-style on the floor next to the couch. "It's only five days. And this is number one, so only four days after this one."

Dean lifted his arm from one eye, glared balefully at him, and went back to sulking.

Sam opened the bottle of whiskey. "I don't think this is half as bad as having our asses barebacked by archangels. You know, that other thing that's getting on our nerves right now?"

Dean snorted.

Sam took a drink from the bottle and waved it under Dean's nose. Dean wrinkled his nose and turned his face away, indicating this was a serious tantrum indeed. After a silent moment of contemplation, Sam rested his head on the side of the couch and reached up. He ran his fingertips gently and hesitantly down Dean's forearm.

Dean lifted his arm a few inches and looked out at him from underneath.

Sam smiled and continued stroking his fingers up and down. Then, with a deep breath, he sat forward and stretched up. He pressed his lips against Dean's and he could feel Dean had stopped breathing. Sam had almost forgotten how warm and pliant his brother's lips were. Sam tried to act calm and collected, as if he hadn't been planning this for days, weeks even, slowly gathering the courage.

When Dean didn't respond to the kiss, Sam withdrew. "Sorry," he said, stomach sinking. "I know it's not like it used to be. I just thought--"

"It's not that," Dean said, his voice low. He lifted his arm from his face. "Just been a while since you gave me any sugar."

Sam shrugged, feeling awkward and a little dumb and a lot regretful. "It's been a rough time since you came back from Hell."

"No shit. Been a long damn year." Dean swallowed. "Was starting to think you might have forgotten."

A tiny spark ignited in the gloom inside Sam's heart. "No, no way. How could I forget?"

Dean shrugged, looking as helpless as Sam felt, and that somehow made Sam feel better. "Like you said," Dean said, "it's been a rough time." _Because of your choices_ went without saying.

They had to start making this better somewhere, really better, not just the Band-Aids they'd stuck all over it up until this point. Maybe this was the first step.

"So," Sam said softly. "You want some sugar?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's been pretty bitter lately, I gotta say."

They kissed until they remembered how to do it again, and then some more, until they heard Bobby's car pull in the driveway.

***

The next day, Dean's swearing could probably be heard in the next county.

"This is a fucking travesty!" he yelled at the sky, as if someone were listening. Maybe he thought Cas would flit down, touch the car, and restore it to its old self.

Sam had to rub a hand across his mouth to hide his smirk. "It's not that bad. Think of it this way, it's safe and family-friendly now."

Dean wheeled away from the four-door, wood-paneled station wagon sitting in the driveway.

"And there's…more room in the back for weapons?" Sam offered.

"What is it with him and _Fords_ _?_ " Dean snarled. "I need a goddamn drink."

Sam chuckled. "I got a better idea. It's a nice day. We obviously can't go anywhere because I know you wouldn't be caught dead in a station wagon, so why don't we take a walk?"

Dean looked at him as if Sam just suggested they dip their feet in a vat of acid.

"Come on," Sam said. "I wonder if our old fort's still down by the creek? We haven't been down there in years."

They took a walk through the scrap yard, and down the steep hill behind it, at the bottom of which a narrow creek marked the edge of the property. A huge willow tree draped itself over the bottom of the slope, and beneath its hanging branches, the crumbling remains of a makeshift structure sagged into the overgrown grass.

"Ah, good old Fort Winchester," Dean said, standing next to Sam as they gazed fondly at the heap of rotten wood. "We used to defend it from monsters, remember Sammy? Vamps, werewolves. Those annoying girls down the road."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I remember the day Bobby caught you 'defending' it with a loaded shotgun. I thought he was gonna kill you."

"Oh please. I knew how to handle a shotgun. The safety was on!"

They sat in the grass and watched the creek gurgle by, recalling stories of childhood, the ones that were marginally good and didn't involve drunk dads and monsters in the closet. Eventually they stretched out in the shade of the tree and Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, slow and easy, and Sam forgot how much everything sucked for a while.

Hours later, in the long, mellow light of afternoon, Sam laughed as Dean's lips tickled his neck, just below his ear where even the softest touch always made him squirm. They were lying on their discarded shirts and Sam's hand rested on Dean's bare chest, Dean's heart thumping slow and steady beneath his palm.

"You know Sammy," Dean murmured against his ear, "you should sneak in my bed tonight."

"Scandalous," Sam whispered. "Do you think I'm that easy?"

He was.

***

"At least it's not a Ford," Sam said. He rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean sat with his head in his hands on the porch steps. He couldn't even look at the black Mazda Miata sitting in the driveway. Sam knew an import was the worst possible insult.

"I'll give you back your damn bullion!" Dean shouted. "Just put her back right!"

Sam had a feeling this was a matter of pride for Crowley and even ten gold bullion wasn't going to set things right.

"Don't want 'em anyway," Dean muttered. "Can't pawn that shit for love or money."

Bobby left on a hunt that afternoon. They had the house to themselves for the weekend and were supposed to do as much research as they could on archangels. Instead, they spread blankets out on the floor in the living room in front of the TV, piled up every pillow they could find, and had a bad horror movie marathon. Just like the old days.

Halfway into the second movie they stopped watching. After a half hour of delicious foreplay, Sam put Dean on his back and fucked him deep and slow. Up on his knees, Sam could see the Miata sitting in the driveway through the window and got the creepy feeling the car was _watching_ them.

"That's fucking weird," he muttered.

"Sammy?" Dean's breathy voice made him look down. Dean clutched at Sam's sweat-slick hips. "You okay? Still with me?"

"Yeah." Sam's breath caught. "You gonna come again?"

"Oh, fuck yeah."

Sam forgot about the car and pumped into Dean harder, smirking at the protracted shrieking and the sound of a chainsaw on the TV behind him.

***

"What the fuck?"

Sam and Dean approached the car in the driveway with caution--that was, the black Chevy Impala in the driveway.

"I thought we had two more days," Dean said. "Something ain't right."

"Maybe Crowley is showing some mercy," Sam said. "Maybe he decided you learned your lesson."

"Nah, that ain't like Crowley at all."

They crept up on the car, as if it might come to life and attack them. Sam recalled the impression he'd gotten the day before, as if the car had become personified. The notion still gave him the willies.

Dean peered in the driver's side window and made a disgusted sound. "No, she ain't back to normal!"

"What's up?" Sam looked in as well.

"She's got a four on the floor now!"

Indeed, the interior had changed--not hugely, but there was now a console between the seats and a gear shift column.

Dean yelled across the scrap yard, "Is this supposed to be funny, Crowley? You teasing me, huh? You give her back but she's not quite herself? _Ha fucking ha_ , you dickhole!"

Sam grinned. "You don't know how to drive stick, do you?"

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't. I've never seen you drive a stick."

"Doesn't mean I don't know how!" Dean scowled. "This is pissing me straight the hell off."

"Shouldn't cheat a demon at cards."

They circled the car, checking it out. It was a '67, exact in every way to their Impala apart from the interior.

"Why don't we get in and check it out?" Sam asked across the roof. "See if anything else is different in there. Besides, you've missed her, haven't you?"

Dean huffed, but opened the driver's side door.

The front seat, of course, was no longer a bench and each seat could be moved on its own. Sam thought he might like it better that way, being able to kick back and sleep in a semi-comfortable position. He watched Dean run his hands over the steering wheel, the dashboard, the dials and gauges, all the while scowling critically, as if he were looking for flaws. Finally he looked down at the gear shift and his expression softened.

"You know, maybe this ain't so bad." He smoothed his hand over the console. "Kinda sexy, actually."

Dean gripped the chrome gear shift and stroked his hand up the stick to the thick, smooth knob on top. He looked sideways at Sam, a sly grin pushing up one corner of his mouth.

"Look, Sammy. Baby's strapped on for me."

Sam jerked his eyebrows up. "You wanna grease up and ride her?"

Dean laughed. "You disgusting friggin' pervert."

Sam looked over his shoulder and into the backseat. "You know, it's been a while since we been back there." He glanced at Dean. "I know Baby isn't quite herself right now, but she's close enough."

Dean's smile widened.

Sam forgot how cramped the backseat could be despite being roomy, since his overgrown limbs were not made for backseat sexcapades. Still, as so many times before, they managed to twist around into a fairly comfortable position after a few tries. It was just like the nights tucked in the trees on some back road, with Dean's tongue tasting like whiskey and Sam's cum sticky on their stomachs, the windows wiped opaque with body heat.

Dean's hands were down Sam's pants and Sam was sucking the salty taste of sweat off his brother's neck when he noticed Dean looking into the front seat.

Sam chuckled against Dean's throat. "You're fantasizing about it, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You're thinking about riding that gear shift. Letting her fuck you."

Dean's cheeks were already flushed, but they reddened up more.

"That's stupid, Sammy. That shit only happens in porn."

"You sure?" Sam looked over at the gear shift. "She's only gonna have it for one day. You wanna miss this opportunity?"

"I can't--Sam, I can't!"

Sam tilted his head.

"You're friggin' warped!" Dean looked flustered.

"I got a whole tube of KY in my bag. Been waiting to put it to good use."

Ten minutes later, they were in the front seat. Dean had removed everything from the waist down. The front seat was plenty roomy enough, with lots of leg room under the dashboard. Even with Sam sitting in the passenger seat, Dean could easily drape one leg over his lap, his back to the windshield. The only issue was the steering wheel on the other side, pushing into Dean's ribs. Dean held onto it for leverage.

"I cannot believe you talked me into this," Dean said. "This is the most depraved thing I've ever done."

Sam grinned, his fingers coated thickly with KY jelly. "Um." He reached under Dean and pressed two slick fingertips against his hole. "You have sex with your brother. I think that counts as depraved."

"Let's not split hairs here, Sammy."

Dean was easy to push into, legs spread wide and squatting as he was. He seemed to forget his awkward position as Sam twisted his fingers up inside, opening him. He groaned low in his throat, eyes closed, and worked his hips, his stiff cock bobbing in front of him and dripping on the console.

"Think you're more eager than you want to admit," Sam said, his voice sounding muffled on the still, thick air inside the car. "Not every day you get an opportunity like this."

Dean slitted his eyes open. "You better slick me up some more. That knob is thick."

Sam's cock grew achingly stiff as he greased his hand up and worked a third finger into his brother. Dean pushed down and gasped. Sam could smell how turned on he was. He was glad they'd left the windows up.

"Okay, hold on," Sam said, and slid his fingers out. He grabbed the tube of lubricant. "Let me grease up the gear shift, too."

Sam coated the stick, chuckling as he stroked the warm chrome. All the stress had drained out of him, at least for the moment, leaving behind a giddy, lightheaded sensation. Never mind he was probably going to cream his jeans as soon as he saw Dean riding the gear shift.

"Quit your hee-hawing," Dean said. "This is supposed to be erotic, ain't it?"

Sam laughed. He took his hand off the gear shift. "All right. Go for it."

Sam held his breath and dug his teeth into his lip as Dean lowered his hips. Dean took his hand off Sam's leg where he'd been bracing himself and reached down to grip the gear shift between his legs, the way he gripped Sam's cock when he was sliding down on him. Sam curled his toes in his boots and stifled the need to whimper. He sat forward and reached underneath Dean, wanting to feel him stretch around the knob.

Dean made a face, an expression of consternation that turned to one of discomfort. He hissed through his teeth.

"You okay?" Sam asked. "How's it feel?"

"It's…" Dean grunted. "It's not the most pleasant sensation. It's really hard and--ow."

Despite his words, Dean sunk down a little further. Sam felt him taking the knob in and his cock throbbed. He rubbed his other hand over his crotch.

Dean rocked his hips a few times, his face still screwed up in distress. His cock started to droop. Sam arched an eyebrow.

Dean stopped moving, drawing quick, sharp breaths, and looked up at Sam.

This…" he licked his lips, "is the most goddamn unpleasant thing I've ever felt."

They stared at each other a moment.

Then they both burst into laughter.

Dean slid off the gear shift and they continued to laugh hysterically, until Sam was pounding his fist against his knee and tears were sliding down his cheeks. Dean fell over in his lap and they continued to laugh so much neither of them could speak, and then Sam realized the car smelled like KY and that made him laugh even harder.

After their jubilant fit, Dean rode Sam on the passenger seat, the back reclined, and he seemed to enjoy Sam's flesh and blood cock a whole lot more than the gear shift.

***

"Holy fuck." Dean lurched away from the window. "We got a visitor, Sammy."

Without questioning, Sam grabbed his gun. Dean already had his shotgun and went to the front door. They walked out with weapons raised, into the morning sunlight.

There was no car in the driveway today, Impala or otherwise. Instead, a woman stood there.

She didn't look like someone to be trifled with. She had broad shoulders and wide hips, curvy but solid. She wore boots, jeans, and a black tank-top, under a leather jacket. Her thick brown hair was cut short above her ears, almost as short as Dean's. She looked like the kind of woman that could pick you up and pile-drive your skull into the pavement. Sam instantly assumed _demon_.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, shotgun trained on her. "What are you doing on this property?"

She strolled toward them. "Aw, what? You don't recognize me, boys?" Her voice was a thick contralto.

Sam and Dean shot each other looks.

"After all the time we've spent together, Dean?"  She lifted her hands. Silver rings flashed on her fingers. "You and me, all those miles together. All we been through. I thought you two considered me the woman in your relationship?"

Realization dawned on Sam.

Dean lowered the shotgun, just a little. "Baby?" he gasped.

She chuckled. "In the flesh." She looked down at herself, then flashed them a wide, toothy grin. "Thanks to your demon pal."

They both lowered their guns.

"What the fuck?" Dean asked.

"I'm supposed to give you a message from Crowley. Can I come inside? I've never been in a house before."

They took her inside, but only after Dean threw holy water at her and it only made her wet. Sam wondered if they shot her if she'd turn back into a car, or disappear, or what.

Standing in the sun-soaked kitchen, Dean boggled at her.

"Baby," he said, sounding disappointed. "You're--a lot more butch than I pictured you."

She chuckled and put a hand on her crotch. Sam widened his eyes at the bulge he saw in her jeans.

"Honey," she said, "you don't know the half of it."

"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked. "Why is Crowley doing this?"

"Because you cheat at cards," she said.

Sam thought she was kind of pretty--earthy, tough, a little dusty and rugged, but he liked her style. He especially liked her no-nonsense approach with Dean.

"So on the fifth day he creates woman?" Dean asked. He put his shotgun on the counter. "What's his message?"

"He says if you want me back the way I used to be, you have to do something special first. Then he'll lift the curse." She stretched her arms out, looking at them. "Though I gotta say, this is kinda cool."

"What do we have to do?" Sam asked.

She lowered her arms and smiled at Dean. She strolled over to him, hips swaying, and Dean gave her a wary look.

"That was fun yesterday," she said. "I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it."

Dean's cheeks turned pink. He cleared his throat and looked from side to side. "Porno movies," he said. "They're a bad influence on me."

She reached out and squeezed his cheeks. "On both of you, apparently. I sprout one little gear shift and you can't wait to hop on it."

"Aw, come on!" Dean grimaced and pulled out of her grip. "I'm sorry, Baby. It was his idea!" He jerked his thumb at Sam.

" _Mine_ _?_ " Sam yelped.

Baby chuckled and walked away, toward the living room. "Crowley feels bad you didn't get what you wanted out of the experience." She started peeling her jacket off. "So he wants to give you another shot."

They both stared at her. She turned around and dropped her jacket on the floor. Under her tank-top, her breasts were small and pert, obviously unrestrained, her stiff nipples pushing against the fabric.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean blinked a few times and looked back at Baby.

"Uh," Dean said. "I have to have sex with you? That's the only way Crowley's going to change you back?"

She laughed and slid her hands down to her wide, silver belt buckle. "Oh no, honey. I have to have sex with _you_."

Dean's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "What does _that_ mean?"

Baby undid her belt buckle and then her jeans. Before she even pushed them down, Sam realized why there was a bulge in her crotch. He saw the leather harness strapped across her hips. She worked something out of her jeans--a smooth, fat, chrome dildo--and gripped it in her fist as she strolled toward them with a smirk.

"Oh…holy fuck…" Dean gasped.

"You can even lube him up like you did yesterday, Sammy."

She gripped them both by the arms. Sam thought he should be a little more alarmed than he was, but curiosity trumped that particular emotion.

She stood up on tippy-toe and sniffed Sam's neck.

"You smell good, Sammy," she said, and it sounded affectionate. "That's the only sense I've never been able to embrace you with." She smiled up at him. "I watched you grow up big and strong." She squeezed the muscle of his bicep. "I listened to your voice get deeper. I felt you writhe against my seats and I tasted your sweat and semen."

Sam leaned down to her, breathing her in as well. She smelled like leather and motor oil, comforting, familiar, like home. His head went all fuzzy.

"And you." She turned to Dean, eyes flashing. "I've felt your hands on my steering wheel, night after night." She took his hand and placed it on her side, over her ribs, and Sam saw him squeeze her. "I felt your touch when you washed me, when you pushed your hands inside me and fixed my broken parts." She rubbed the dildo against his thigh and Dean growled, reaching out to grip her opposite hip and pull her closer.

"I'm sorry I hurt you yesterday," she murmured close to Dean's lips, and his eyes had gone all glassy, gazing into hers. "I want to make it up to you. Make you feel good the way you do me."

Sam wondered if he was in the middle of the weirdest wet dream of his life. Everything certainly felt dream-like as they moved into the living room, as they got down on the blankets and pillows still spread on the floor.

Baby pulled her tank-top off and Sam couldn't resist cupping and squeezing her small, firm tits because hey, it wasn't every day you got to fondle a car's boobs. She laughed and squeezed his cock through his jeans in return, and Dean watched them with a heavy-lidded gaze and a lazy smile.

"M'brother and m'baby," he drawled. "I've had fantasies about this, I think."

Sam didn't remember getting naked, but at some point they all did, apart from the leather harness strapped across Baby's hips. Her cock _looked_ like chrome, and it was smooth and warm like the gear shift had been, but it had give and was almost fleshy like a real cock. It wouldn't hurt Dean like her gear shift had. Still, she was thick and Dean would need those three fingers he got yesterday. Sam found the half-used tube of lubricant.

Baby watched, licking her lips and rubbing her hands over her smooth, compact body, as Sam pushed his slick fingers into Dean. Dean rested on his hands and knees, and after a time she moved over in front of him. Sam watched as Dean sunk his mouth over her shiny cock and bobbed his head. She let him work it for a few minutes, then she pushed his head back and unbuckled the strap over one of her hips.

Underneath the harness her pussy was a smooth, hairless mound. She pressed Dean's face into it and he lapped eagerly at her slit. Sam bit back a groan and pushed his fingers deeper inside of him, working him open for her.

"Always wanted to see what that was like," she said, fingers twisting in Dean's hair. "All those girls you did it to on my backseat."

Sam smirked. Road trips were never going to be the same.

When Sam had him ready, she did the harness back up, and with Dean face-down in the pillows and ass in the air, she gave him a much smoother ride than the day before. He moaned gutturally, clutching at the blankets, and Sam sat back and watched, stroking himself.

"This is fun," she said, gripping Dean's hips and hauling him back against her. "I get to ride you for once."

Sam laughed, feeling as giddy as the day before. She smiled over at him and winked.

They made a sexy sight, Baby plowing her shiny cock into Dean's ass, Dean taking it with a lovely lot of grunting and moaning and gasping. His legs were spread wide, his ass shuddering each time she slammed against him. He gripped his cock, hanging low and hard between his legs, and jerked himself fast. Sam matched the rhythm on his own cock, stroking himself toward orgasm with them.

When Dean came, shooting copiously across the blankets with a keening moan, Sam came too, gasping his brother's name. Dean looked over at him, their eyes meeting, and Sam came even harder, in hot, slick stripes across his stomach.

Sam fell back on the floor, panting. A moment later he felt a tongue caress his lower belly. He looked down and saw Baby leaning over him, lapping up the mess he'd made across his abs. Dean had slumped into the pillows, sprawled spread-eagled and face-down.

"You're a good boy, Sammy," Baby said, kissing up his chest. Her lips glistened with his cum. "Next time I get to be a real girl, I'll fuck _your_ ass nice and hard."

Sam chuckled and slid his fingers through her hair.

"Take care of your brother," she whispered, and placed a salty kiss on his lips. "He needs you."

"I always do," Sam murmured. He faded out.

***

Sam and Dean awoke at the same time, stretched out naked side-by-side on the floor, Dean still face-down and Sam on his back. The warm spring breeze flowed in the open windows.

They stared at each other, Dean bleary-eyed, and then both looked around the room. They were alone.

"Was that real?" Sam asked. "Or did we just have the most insane hallucination ever?"

Dean pushed up on his elbows and winced. "My ass would seem to suggest it was real."

"Crowley just had a big laugh, I'm guessing." Sam looked sternly at Dean. "No more poker."

"At least not with monsters."

They both got up and Dean walked to the window. He chuckled. Sam joined him and peeked out.

The Impala sat in the driveway.

"I guess it's over," Dean said. "Crowley feels like he got his pound of flesh. And I got my Baby back." He shook his head. "And how."

"You should probably go out and wash her. I'm guessing she needs it now." Sam turned away from the window and grimaced. "By the way, I'm not sure I can fool around in her anymore."

"Aw Sammy, now we know she likes it, it'll be even better!"

Sam smiled over his shoulder at him. "I'm glad we're fooling around again, though."

Dean smiled back at him. "Just like old times."


End file.
